I’ve just realized the last four movies I’ve watched have been G-rated. You don’t see that too often anymore (they’d be rated PG nowadays, purely because they’re live action).
There’s a surprising amount variety in the Pippi Longstocking film franchise, considering its origins – a reedited Swedish/German single-series TV program. We’ve had reasonably tight plots (Pippi in the South Seas) and wildly scattershot efforts (Pippi Goes on Board). There’s even a question if today’s final Pippi entry, Pippi on the Run, is actually the third or fourth movie – It was released third in 1975 , but presumably made fourth in the overall 1970 TV context…and it’s the only Pippi that doesn’t share a title with one of Astrid Lindgren’s novels. Curiously, it sort of splits the difference between the divergent South Seas and Goes on Board, perhaps meant (as the final TV entry) to cater to fans of either previous approach. So Pippi on the Run has a coherent through-line, but functions by stream of consciousness on a moment-by-moment basis.
(Stupidly, I sent the disc back to Netflix before remembering to take screen caps. What follows is my sad effort to correct that oversight in some small way. I think I got the date wrong in my “title card.”)
After the great setting experiment of South Seas, we’re back at Pippi’s home of Villa Villekulla…The film shall not move too far afield of readily available Swedish-German settings, though it sorta follows South Seas’ adventure story format, with a marked de-emphasis (read: complete absence) of secondary characters from Pippi Longstocking and Pippi Goes on Board.
Pippi Longstocking (Inger Nilsson, now a secretary in Stockholm) pounds clamorously upon her dishware, like “Stomp” or whatever, aided by her bested buddies/henchmen ever, the Settergren siblings Tommy and Annika (Pär Sundberg and Maria Persson). So far, so random, the sort of motiveless Pippi I most fear. But the Settergrens’ parents shall put a stop to this, seeing as their children have had far more merriment in their life than the socialist Swedish state usually allows. Sorrow, anger, and existentialist mourning is expressed – come on, it’s a Swedish film! Then the three children come to the mutual conclusion, in their infinite wisdom, on how to resolve this latest bout with traditional Scandinavian ennui.
They shall run away from home!
This forms the basis for the rest of the “narrative,” and at least “the random adventures of three emancipated minors” is more cohesion than Goes on Board’s “whatever scene remained on the cutting room floor – that’ll fill out a movie series!”
They leave on the horse, abandoning the monkey, reversing South Seas’ monkey-taking horse-abandonment. (Pippi owns both a horse and a monkey, just like this one guy I know in L.A.) Because the film series as a whole views unfettered childhood as being a mixture of skipping and tuneless singing, the children now skip and sing a tuneless tune – “Wake Up, You Lazy Bones.” My childhood was silly and loco and all, but I did it without such merriment, thank you. And once again the series forces me to think of Ingmar Bergman, even when I’d rather not, for the kids happen upon a patch of wild strawberries – What is it with Sweden and wild strawberries?! No matter, they eat the strawberries. It’s probably symbolic.
Night filter steadily closing in, the trio must rush to find shelter for the “night.” They discover a rancid old farmhouse that suddenly reminds me of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (uh oh!), and go right on in. And you know, every genre, every single film, has its agenda. Whereas a more adult flick would always stack the narrative deck to show, say, the harshness of existence, or whatever Sweden stands for, this kid’s flick shows creepy old farmhouses inhabited by aimless bearded transients are as whimsical as anyplace else. For indeed here is a completely trustworthy transient, Konrad (Hasse Alfredson, a Swedish comedian, if you buy that, apparently known for his ability to “extemporize wildly absurd comic situations”). This man loves little children, but in a good way, you know.
Upping Konrad’s trustworthiness considerably, he’s also an itinerant peddler – of Konrad’s Super-Gluer, a Nickelodeon-esque green slime capable of doing whatever the plot next demands. My God, it’s Flubber! Pippi instantly uses said goo to perform the sort of rotating-room routine seen in Royal Wedding, or Inception (or A Nightmare on Elm Street – Why do I insist on referencing horror movies?!). Shortly after the dance, and the desecration of Konrad’s beard, everyone beds down for the night. Annika, that endlessly anal and self-loathing little Swedish girl, insists repeatedly that everyone wash behind their ears – Does it even get dirty back there?!
Countering Annika’s persistent depression, brother Tommy is eternally beset by the sort of hysterical guffawing mostly associated with potheads, usually directed at Pippi’s latest shenanigan. What’s odd about this, though, is, er, Pär Sundberg’s performance. As a Swede, naturally he’s never personally observed true, real-life jollity, and yet he’s asked to replicate it on film. Frankly, it looks like the poor boy is in extreme pain, as though passing a kidney stone. That’s laughter in Northern Europe for ya!
Night passes, represented by scads of nature documentary footage of owls and frogs, mice and foxes. In fact, pleasant and unassuming nature docs fill out much of On the Run (and really, the series as a whole). This continues throughout the film, as we stand marvel to the greatest wildlife Sweden has to offer – kittens and piglets and chicks and such.
That day, again wandering aimlessly through the woods (horse having been unceremoniously abandoned some point back), the children happen upon a barrel, and are beset by the same sort of brainwave as the “Jackass” guys. That is, Pippi boards the barrel, then rolls down a cliff, a river, a waterfall, et cetera. Thus she and the Settergrens are separated, left to search the woods and barely miss each other, sort of like The Navigator – too obscure? And Annika, being Annika, grows horrified at the prospect that this forest is inhabited by nature documentary footage!
One terror-filled night later, and the siblings have reached a nearby town. Let’s start squeezing the moral into the story, shall we? They start to grow homesick – it’s not as hammered-home as a Hollywood production would make it, but the message is clear. Annika in particular misses her favorite food in the whole wide world – cabbage! I know Europeans slurp on cabbage with abandon, but seriously?!
Then they collide with Pippi, who has somehow coaxed a half-bicycle into being a hoverboard from Back to the Future Part II. It crashes, Wile E. Coyote style, the very instant realist nebbish Annika points out such acts are impossible. What a cabbage-loving killjoy!
Beset by days-long hunger, the children resort to their final option – begging. This is a kid’s fantasy! (Swedish.) Apparently, in Sweden (or Germany), if you dance in front of a person’s window, that person will hurl change at you. Makes those listless bums here in Chicago seem even more worthless, don’t it?
Then they buy food. Tommy channels Jakes Blues, and eats whole fried chicken. Annika dines on (you guessed it) delicious cabbage. Mmm!
Spitting in the face of Death rather less literally than in Seventh Seal, the kids leap onto a moving train, riding the roof, India-style. The train passes by mountainous heaps of nature documentaries. Then Pippi peers into a train compartment, causing an old lady to faint (or die of a heart attack, either way).
Tiring of the train, they all leap off in motion onto a nearby hay cart. An action movie would make a big deal of this, but not a kid’s flick! Thus they secretly hitch a ride to a farm, the lair of Sulky Farmer (Walter Richter). Here’s a chance of satisfy the guttural demands of Germanic television, and cast several strangely pale German children as farmhands. I know they’re German, partly through Internet research, and partly because they’re eating dirt. “Borrowing” an idea from Charles Schultz, one especially filthy and Teutonic tot is even called “Pigsty” – it ain’t exactly “Pigpen,” I guess.
Our trio of noble Swedish youths spends the night in the hayloft, doing as children are wont to do and trading swear words with their German counterparts. Annika, of all freaking people, knows the worst swear of ‘em all! Lest we think they’re holding back, Pippi goes and shrieks it out the barn window: “SHUT YOUR DAMN COTTON PICKIN’ MOUTH!” It’s not too dirty, but I think it’s vaguely racist.
Pippi’s saves Pigsty’s life from rampaging doc footage of a bull, in a pastiche of a bullfight. To my pleasure, this means Spanish horns on the soundtrack! Just like a spaghetti western! In thanks, Sulky Farmer gifts Pippi her very own junky jalopy.
Pippi doesn’t merely get the heap to run, she gets it to fly – through a powerful combination of rainwater, pure grain alcohol, precious bodily fluids, and Konrad’s Super-Gluer – See, Flubber? Also, I think there’s a bit of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in here. Oh, and the car can also fly because Pippi flaps her arms, and believes it can fly. Yes, in children’s films, if you simply beliiiiiieeeeeve hard enough, and say it in a constipated voice, you can achieve anything! What the hell kind of a message is this anyway?! It’s making people lazy!
The almighty glue runs low, farting out of the exhaust pipe like so much Taco Bell; childlike faith in the impossible is also flagging (I blame Annika). At any rate, the jalopy splashes down without consequence in a lake. And when the randomly flowing narrative has deposited you here, you swim! With a rather undue amount of child nudity, I might add. But that nudity serves a purpose, beyond satisfying another bizarre demand of Germanic television standards: a cow eats the Settergrens’ clothes. (Pippi, in her acumen, has never disrobed.)
With this setback, the Settergrens clothe themselves in itchy potato sacks. Then it’s back to begging shamelessly, in hopes the same homeowners will hurl clothing out their windows. Horribly, the children excuse their lack of clothing by claiming to be Turkish. Is that a common Turkish stereotype – nudity?! Okay, sure, their baths…still…And, sure, their prisons too…Still, it’s not like they’re that poor or anything.
Pippi performs a tightrope act, represented immaculately in the above image. This earns them their money for clothing, and a brief run-in with a poliskonstapel. But no matter, for the movie is coming to an end, and Annika’s laments are gaining greater prominence. That means they shall decide to head home, and give up their lives as travelling Turks.
Rather than joy, the children’s journey home is conveyed with the sort of bleakness I’ve never experienced firsthand. It’s this moment, more than any other, which I dearly wish I’d captured in a cap; my chicken scratch cannot substitute, so here’s the image that most closely conveys the dreariness these Swedes find themselves in:
Now they’re home, reunited with parents (and more importantly, horse). With the overall series narrative having progressed not a scad, but having provided momentary delight nonetheless, the Settergren siblings curl up in bed, say their prayers and bid us a fond farewell…
Then Pippi flies outside their window on a broomstick, cackling incessantly. She’s a witch! BURN HER!
These four Pippi Longstocking movies count as a franchise (only barely) for their brief theatrical release in the U.S. Still, they’re best remembered, in Sweden and the U.S. both, as TV programs! For following their theatrical run, U.S. TV stations re-reedited these movies-from-a-TV-show into a TV show. It is this, unseen by me, which ran through the ‘70s and ‘80s, and defined most American’s nostalgia for the series.
That was the end of the Pippi we’re here to consider, but it wasn’t the end of her media treatment. The Soviets were the next to respond, via questionable legality, with a 1982 made-for-TV movie, Peppi Dlinnyychulok. And man, if the Swedish entries occasionally dabble in depression, I can only imagine what the Commies could produce!
The Americans are not ones to let a potentially profitable franchise pass by without at least some input of their own – even beyond their redistribution of the Swedish stuff. So in 1985, a two-parter “Pippi” portion of the “ABC Weekend Special” was produced.
I’m stalling…None of that matters in light of the Hollywood Pippi, 1988’s The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking. This is a new adaptation of the original novel, totally unrelated to any previous filmed versions. And because Pippi’s literary, this isn’t the sort of remake which has any bearing on our investigation. I shall not be watching it.
Yeah, yeah, Nelvana made an animated TV show, simply called “Pippi Longstocking.”
Lamentably missing from this latter stock of Pippi pics is an aborted effort from master animator Hayao Miyazaki, of My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away fame. Just picture how well he could’ve expressed pure, unfiltered childlike glee! I cannot imagine a more perfect director for this material, and it’s only a question of Miyazaki’s position in Japan circa 1971 that prevented us this version.
And that’s it for Pippi, a rather bizarre footnote in the overall scheme of things – though she’s got herself a Swedish postage stamp…so there’s that.
Related posts:
• No. 1 Pippi Longstocking (1969)
• No. 2 Pippi Goes on Board (1969)
• No. 3 Pippi in the South Seas (1970)
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